Comfort
by LillieGrey
Summary: This will now be a series of one-shots primarily focused on Regina and moments throughout the course of the series. Prompts, comments and criticism are welcome. Ratings may change dependent upon chapters.
1. Chapter 1

It's been three weeks, two days and seven hours since her life was irrevocably shattered. Five hundred and fifty nine hours since she last held her son in her arms.

Sleep is hard to come by. Her days are filled with matters of state, constant meetings with the Un-Charmings and their rag tag group of councilors, scouting missions attempting to gather any clues about her sister's next move, and hours spent scouring books in the library for any grains of information that may help defeat this Wicked Witch all fill her waking hours with the necessary distraction she needs to simply keep breathing. It's the evenings that prove more difficult to handle.

Only after everyone has safely gone to bed, the torches have all been doused, and silence wraps itself around the palace walls like a comforting blanket does she allow herself to freely think of her son, her Henry. She painstakingly removes the pins from her hair allowing the thick ebony curls to fall across her back, wipes her face of makeup, and peels layer upon structured layer of corsetry, leather, and twinkling jewels from her skin until every trace of the evil queen is gone and she is once again Regina, once again _Mom_. She puts on a simple silk nightgown and stares out at the evening sky from her balcony and wonders if her little boy is looking at the same moon she sees from a realm away. She wonders if he's gotten any taller or if the soft little boy roundness of his cheeks has started to sharpen into the angular structure of a teenager. She thinks of his smile and his laugh and the way his head fits perfectly in the crook of her neck when he hugs her. She remembers every minute detail of him that she can while staring into the brightness of the midnight sky until she is finally calm enough to try and sleep, but tonight there is no moon.

A dense layer of rolling grey clouds covers the sky blocking any possible glimpse of the peaceful orb she has come to rely on in the last few weeks. Suddenly the solitude of her rooms seems suffocating and oppressive and she itches to be anywhere but where she is. Tugging her heavy, red damask robe from its resting place on the bed she knots it securely over her hip and heads for the door, perhaps a visit to her apple tree will provide the solace she so desperately needs.

…

The biting cold of the courtyard tiles is a welcome sensation; the stinging pain coasting along her feet reminding her that she is in fact still grounded here and alive despite the untethered emotional numbness she feels. She pads silently over to her beloved apple tree and sits on the bench in front of it staring up at the cloud covered sky hoping to catch a glimpse of moonlight between the clouds. She is only there a few minutes before she feels the familiar sensation of someone watching her from the shadows of the courtyard. She allows the observation for a few moments before calling over her shoulder, "You can come out now. I know you're there."

Turning her face back to the empty sky she senses the presence stalk from the shadows and take a seat beside her on the bench. "What are you doing here?" she asks without every removing her gaze from the expansive darkness of the sky.

"I couldn't sleep and I often find comfort in looking at the moon on restless evenings."

She is about to remark on the lack of a moon, when there is an unexpected break in the clouds and the silver glow of moonlight washes over the courtyard. They sit there jointly staring at the glowing orb above them until the voice beside her breaks the tentative silence. "I didn't see you at the evening meal."

"How very perceptive of you," she bites back without bothering to look over.

At that, a single work-worn hand reaches out and tucks an errant ebony curl behind her ear and then rests for a moment on her cheek. She briefly leans into the warm, calloused fingers, closing her eyes to revel in the touch, before she catches herself and pulls her face away. Her own hand comes up to forcefully tuck the errant strand more securely behind her ear as if to erase the lingering sensation of the other.

She looks over then and meets the penetrating gaze that is focused on her for the first time. She wonders if they see the way her collarbones jut out more sharply now then they did a month ago, the darkness that has gathered under her eyes, and the pallor that has overtaken her skin. They must because they suddenly soften into an emotion she can't quite place, concern or understanding possibly. Breaking the uncomfortable eye contact she returns her gaze upward intently focused on the patterns created by the thin clouds ghosting over the moon.

"You can't keep doing this Regina."

At that she whips her head to the side, eyes wide with surprise. She can count on one hand the number of people bold enough to call her by her given name, especially within the confines of the castle. Only to be met with those same soft eyes full of undiscernible emotion.

"He wouldn't want this for you, and you know it."

She closes her eyes then and turns her face away. Traitorous tears are stinging behind her eyes and she refuses to appear any weaker than she already is in front of anyone. She struggles to find a sharp retort to hiss back, but the simple truth in those words saps all the bite out of her. Thankfully the person sitting next to her senses her discomfort and sighs before standing to leave.

"I expect to see you at breakfast in the morning, or I will come to your chambers and drag your royal ass out of bed myself."

"Don't hold your breath wolf," she calls over her shoulder with a slight smirk. She waits until she hears the gruff grunt of a reply and the stooped figure of the older woman is completely gone before turning her face back to catch the last glimmer of moonlight before it is swallowed by the ever-present grey clouds once again. She lingers there a moment waiting to see if the clouds will recede to give her a glimpse of the moon's reassuring presence once more before she releases a sigh and heads back to her cold empty chambers where she is certain sleep will evade her once again.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Author's note: So I've decided to continue this. It will now be a series of one-shots primarily focused on Regina and moments throughout the course of the series. Thank you all for your lovely comments and follows! I have a few ideas for some more chapters, but I'm happy to take prompts for this or anything else you'd like to throw at me. Comments and criticism are welcome as always. I'm still very new to this so anything you have for me is greatly appreciated. Xx_**

They get into a habit of sorts over the course of the coming weeks. It's never spoken, but there is no need to put what they are doing into words. She arrives each evening and waits in the shadows until the queen nods her head or calls her over and they sit together in the silence of the courtyard and take what comfort they can from being in one another's presence.

Sometimes they talk and sometimes they don't, it's simply whatever is needed at the time. They trade lists of things they miss from Storybrooke (whiskey and electricity for her and coffee and hot running water for the queen topping the lists), but they always carefully avoid talking about the thing they know they both miss most, Henry. Each evening ends the same way, with Granny demanding she eat more and look after herself and the queen offering a biting retort about how if the food were better maybe she would be able to stomach it, before they both separate to go to their respective rooms feeling a little less empty than before.

This carries on for several weeks until one night she arrives at the usual time to find her spot on their bench occupied by someone else, the archer Robin Hood. At first she wants to leave them alone, she doesn't want to intrude upon the queen's privacy, but then the wolf rears its protective head and she slinks back into the cover of darkness to watch over the pair. The queen puts up a good front with her acerbic wit and stinging comments, but Granny knows that she is still a fragile, heartbroken woman and while Robin seems to be a decent, honorable man she doesn't know him well enough yet to wholly trust him around the grieving monarch.

The outlaw is leaning back on his elbows with his legs stretched out in front of him with an air of casual comfort that contrasts with the straight-backed rigidity of the woman sitting beside him. They make quite the striking pair bathed in the warm glow of the moon and twinkling brightness of the stars. He is earth and warmth, dimples and laughter and she is cool and stoic, sarcasm and narrowed eyes. The arresting image they make only matched by the endless cycle of banter that charges between them like an elaborate dance.

He whispers something to her that makes her laugh, it's a bitter choked little sound, but it's the closest thing she's heard to mirth coming from the queen in months. That little release seems to ease the tension lingering in the air and Granny decides that maybe she can release the queen to the thief's care for the evening and she slips away unnoticed back to the comfort of her rooms.

...

The following evening she begins a new pattern, a pattern of silent observation from afar. She still arrives each night as she always has, but now she watches as the outlaw takes up the position she has held over the last few weeks beside the queen. Regina still arrives each evening in her full regalia, wearing every inch of leather, lace, and boning like the armor that it is, hair and makeup perfectly styled into the mask of strength and indifference than only she and the thief know to be a façade.

Things start out simple enough, the thief seamlessly fits himself into the role she had occupied previously either sitting silently or trading light comments here and there when words are needed, but gradually things begin to change. The first few nights there is a distinct distance between the queen and the outlaw, a physical gap that is not to be crossed until one evening the queen arrives with her hair half down, loose curls coasting down her back and Robin can no longer resist the urge to reach out and curl one of the long silky tendrils around his fingers. The touch is brief, but the queen notices and over the coming days she begins to wear her hair down more often, choosing styles that leave portions of her shining curls hanging down her back instead of the elaborate updos she tends to favor that leave her hair sculpted and pinned into submission. It's a subtle change, but still noticeable.

The following evening the pair decides to wander around the courtyard while they chat instead of lingering on the bench as usual. Granny is careful to sink herself further into the darkness of the surrounding walls to avoid being spotted by them, but she is still able to see clearly when the queen loosely drapes her arm through the crook of the outlaws elbow, delicate fingers resting just above his wrist as they continue to walk. The thief looks over at the touch and the queen simply raises an eyebrow as if to dare him to say something and he simply chuckles and drags his lower lip up with his teeth and grins at her with a soft dimpled smile Granny notices he reserves only for the queen.

The next morning Granny passes her in the hallway as she rushes off for yet another meeting with the Un-Charmings and she can't help but notice how some of the color has returned to the queen's face. A slight glow has tinged her cheeks and the dullness behind her eyes seems to have brightened just a bit. Perhaps the thief is useful for something after all.

…

Things continue on like that for another week. The queen and the outlaw meet in the evenings and stroll together in the privacy of darkness always guarded by the ever watchful eyes of the protective wolf who lurks in the shadows. Until one day the queen locks herself away in her rooms, refusing all visitors or any food that is sent to her chambers. Snow warns the residents of the castle to give the queen a wide berth for the day when she calmly announces at breakfast that today is Henry's birthday.

Granny rushes through her chores for the day and enters her position in the courtyard earlier than normal with every intention of telling the outlaw that his presence this evening will not be welcome, but when she arrives she sees him already there pacing back and forth with a look of concern so deeply etched into his forehead that she forces herself to wait and see where things go. He finally gives up pacing and sits heavily on the bench, his tension still present in the bouncing of his knees. They don't have to wait long before the queen enters the courtyard in a similar state to how Granny found her that first night so long ago. Her face is scrubbed of makeup and her eyes are red and puffy from where she has certainly been crying. Her hair is wild, hanging heavily down her back, a few gentle curls blowing lightly across her face in the evening wind. She is completely stripped of any semblance of the evil queen as she stands there, barefoot, frozen in place wearing a simple cream silk nightgown covered by a deep midnight blue robe that is knotted securely at her waist.

"What are you doing here?" she practically growls at the thief as he quickly stands from his reclined position on the bench.

"I didn't see you around the palace today. I simply wanted to check and make sure things were alright."

"I'm fine. There, you've done your check, now will you go?"

She watches as the thief leaves his position beside the bench and moves closer to the queen. Sees how he studies her face, takes in the redness of her eyes and the tear tracks on her cheeks glistening in the moonlight. He moves forward then and gently rubs his thumb along her cheek wiping away the remnants of a tear before cupping the side of her face with his palm and leans in to whisper, "I am not convinced. What is it Regina? What can I do to help?"

The queen looks up at him then, no, not the queen, _Regina_ because that is who she is now barefoot and broken looking up at the thief with grief shining so heavily in her eyes Granny can see it clearly from her hiding spot across the courtyard. Those eyes just stare up at him searching his face as if she is gauging his sincerity and deciding where exactly she wants this moment to go. Something in her gaze falters then and her voice cracks over the words as she answers him, "I just want the pain to go away."

Granny watches as the thief cards his hand through the loose hair at the back of her neck and tilts her head up to meet his lips in a gentle kiss. When she hears the whimper the queen releases in the back of her throat at the contact, she almost steps in to stop him, but just as she moves into the moonlit portion of the courtyard that whimper breaks into a sob. She watches as Robin releases his hold on the back of her neck, lightly sliding his hand down her back in comforting strokes as the queen crumples into his arms shaking with sobs and clutching desperately to the lapels of his jacket.

She steps back into her place in the shadows and watches as the thief sits back down on the bench, pulling Regina with him into the comforting circle of his arms. She listens as he whispers soothing words into her ear and presses a kiss to the top of her head never stopping the repetitive slide of his hand up and down her back. For the first time in all the weeks she has stood guard over the couple, for she feels that is what they are now, she trusts the outlaw to look after the queen and she leaves them alone to their privacy.

…

The next morning she heads to the kitchens to begin preparing things for the morning meal and she finds a single folded piece of paper waiting for her on her table.

_I know you have been watching us. I promise you she is safe with me. Thank you for caring for her, just as I do. _

_ Robin_

Carefully refolding the paper she slips it into the pocket of her apron where she knows it will be safe and goes about her morning routine with a smile on her face. She never returns to the courtyard at midnight again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Ok, this one is for butterflykisses0****who sent me this lovely prompt: "****_How about one where Regina throws up in front of Robin and he takes care of her..."_**

**I'm not sure if this is what you had in mind, but I hope you like it! Sorry for the delay! Again, comments and prompts are always welcome! Thank you all for the lovely messages you have left me already, here and on tumblr, they truly bring a smile to my face. Xx**

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><p>"I never liked pets," she snarls as she hurls another fireball at the flying monstrosity quickly racing toward her head.<p>

"There are too many of them!" He hears Snow cry from across the courtyard as she notches another arrow before releasing it, squarely hitting her target in the neck.

"Milady! Behind you!" He calls out across the courtyard as he desperately pulls an arrow from his quiver to fend off the beast that is swopping toward Regina's back. He watches as she swivels around and quickly launches anther orb of fire at the winged creature that is swiftly approaching. The speed of her turn throws off her aim and she grazes the left side of the monster's wings, barely slowing its progression, but that gives him enough time to loose the arrow he has pulled and he sighs in relief when the beast cries out and disappears before his eyes as the arrow hits its target. The queen looks over at him then and nods her thanks with the ghost of a smile gracing her lips.

Their tender moment is short-lived, however, as they are both forced back into the fray of the battle going on around them. Arrows are being fired from every direction across the courtyard from a mix of his Merry Men, Snow White, and the Widow Lucas's crossbow. The Prince stands near the queen in the center of the courtyard fending off as many as possible with his sword while the queen fires off round after fiery round at the masses of creatures swarming the skies above the palace. The courtyard is filled with the acrid stench of blood, smoke and magic and the sound of unearthly screeching, the clash of weaponry, and the desperate shouting of warning calls and frustration. This is the third time this week Zelena has sent a flock of her demented pets to the castle and fatigue is begging to overtake the group.

"Enough of this!" He hears her call from across the courtyard, and he watches in a mixture of horror and awe as she flexes both hands calling forth a flickering ball of flame within both palms. She thrusts her arms upward toward the sky and the flames erupt forth creating a blanket of fire across the sky leaving the smell of singed fur and panicked animalistic shrieks in its wake. The few remaining creatures not caught in the queens impressive net of fire quickly turn and streak away from the castle, disappearing into the darkness of the night sky.

He watches as Regina lowers her shaking hands and releases a sigh before turning to assess the damage left in the wake of this round of fighting. Looping his bow over his back he quickly examines the queen from his perch on the wall, taking note of how her chest still heaves as she catches her breath and the way the right shoulder of her dress has darkened with blood from a deep claw mark across her collarbone. He longs for nothing more than to rush across the courtyard and take her in his arms and reassure himself that she is safe, but he knows such an open display of affection would not be welcome in such a public space. He contents himself with moving closer, jumping down from his elevated space and striding across the courtyard until he is standing an arms-length away from her along with the prince and princess.

"We can't keep going like this for much longer. There has to be some way of preventing them from entering the castle grounds, or at least preparing for their attacks," the prince sighs, the exhaustion of the previous battle evident in his voice.

"What about a protection spell? Like the one Zelena had up when we arrived?" Snow questions, her face lighting up with hope.

"That could work," the queen answers, quirking one eyebrow up in thought, "but I would have to use a spell that can't be broken by blood magic in order to prevent her from disabling it."

"Well, can you do it or not?" The prince asks with an exasperated huff.

"Yes, I can," she bites back narrowing her eyes at the other royal. "It's a complicated spell, so it will take some time and quite a bit of energy."

"Milady, perhaps we should wait until your wounds have been tended to and you've had an opportunity to rest," he ventures while stepping toward the queen, concern clearly shining from his eyes.

"There isn't time! She could send another flock of those creatures to attack us at any moment and we can't keep fighting like this," Charming responds as he wipes the blood and grit from his sword before securing it in the sheath at his hip.

He is just about to voice another protest when the queen's voice interrupts, "The prince is right; we need to do this now." With a wave of her hand the chest of ingredients from her chambers appears in a puff of purple smoke on the dais in the center of the courtyard. The queen quickly marches over to it, expertly flicking open the lid and pulling various bottles full of powders and liquids from within. He watches as she drops careful measures of each necessary item into the cauldron in front of her before gently returning each vial to its rightful place inside the box. When she has finished with the ingredients she gingerly closes the lid and the box disappears once again just as quickly as it appeared.

She steps up to the lip of the cauldron, straightening her back and squaring her shoulders, raising her wrists over the bowl as if they are being draw up by invisible strings before her delicate fingers snap out and a faint light extends from their flexed tips. Something crackles in the air and raises the hair on the back of his neck and the courtyard suddenly feels charged and alive. The faint glow from her fingers has extended into the cauldron igniting the contents within and sudden flames burst forth from its depths.

Where the flames of Zelena's spell had been a sickly, disturbing green color, the fire that is conjured now is a bright electric purple interspersed with bits of violet and deep plum. A bright column of fire surges forth from the center of the flames and shoots straight up into the sky above the castle. There is a sudden crack heard in the air as the pillar of fire reaches its peak and thin tendrils of lilac extend in all directions like spiders' silk across the sky around the palace and grounds. The air suddenly seems to shimmer as the lace like tendrils extend toward the ground and Robin is certain he has never seen anything quite so beautiful or terrifying in all of his life. When the lilac colored magic has finally reached is resting place on the ground fully encasing the palace within its protective bubble, Regina's hands flex and fall to her side breaking the glowing connection she has created with the flames still dancing within the cauldron.

"There. It's finished." She says as she turns on shaky legs to face the group of shell-shocked bystanders. As she moves to descend the stairs from the dais her knees buckle, but before she hits the ground two strong arms have grasped her around the bend of her waist.

"Let me go thief," she rasps out through gritted teeth with as much venom as she can muster.

"I will, as soon as I'm certain you're capable of standing on your own," he cuts back with a smirk trying to cover how concerned he is.

"Robin, please. I feel like I'm going to be sick." As soon as those words have cleared her lips she lurches forward at the waist and empties the contents of her stomach. He quickly slides one arm securely around her middle holding her up as she spasms in his arms, while his other hand swoops up to scoop her hair away from her neck and face. She is coughing and sputtering, desperately trying to draw breath between the heaves wracking her body and the sound wrenches something in his heart.

"Regina!" The concerned voice of Snow sounds in his ear and he quickly smacks away the outstretched hand that is reaching toward the queen's shoulders.

"I think you've done enough for this evening," he snarls while fixing the princess with a firm glare. "It's your fault this happened. If you had just let her rest instead of constantly pushing her to fix everything for you at her own expense she would have been stronger when she cast this spell."

"Robin, please, she can't breathe. The lacing on her corset is too tight; just let me loosen it for her."

He notices then how her lungs are shuddering beneath the arm he still has wrapped around her waist, the way her lungs contract desperately against the harsh boning and tight laces bound around her. Without a second thought he gently lowers her to her knees on the courtyard and yanks the buck knife from his waist, slashing through the laces at the bottom of her corset, careful not to cut too high and compromise her decency. Immediately her lungs suck in a greedy breath of air and her desperate wheezing calms to a light pant. When he is certain her breathing has quieted and her stomach has finally settled he pulls his cloak off his shoulders and wraps her tightly in the soft green fabric before swooping her up in his arms, one arm notched beneath her knees while the other wrests along her back drawing her upper body to his chest.

Without another word, he turns and carries his queen into the palace with no intention of letting her go until he has looked after her wounds personally. If anyone left in the courtyard notices the way she snuggles her face into the crook of his neck and draws in the comforting smell of forest and sweat that is uniquely Robin while tightly clutching the neck of his shirt in her hand, they know better than to mention it.


	4. Chapter 4

**_This is just a little post-finale reaction piece in preparation for the upcoming season premiere. Thank you all again for the reviews, follows, and prompts both here and on tumblr (I'm Em-Temple on tumblr if any of you want to send prompts there). I am currently in the process of moving so updates may be less frequent, but I will try and post as often as I can. Comments, criticism, and prompts are welcome as always. Xx_**

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><p>The silence that overtakes the diner is deafening. No one is quite sure where to look or what do to in the wake of the life changing events that have just taken place. Emma is still standing in the middle of the diner staring into the receding purple vapor that mere seconds ago was Regina. The clatter of forks and knives against plates filled with burgers, fries, lasagna and assorted other fattening foods has stagnated into a stale awkwardness that is creeping into the air, practically suffocating the patrons who moments ago were toasting and laughing in celebration. Every eye in the room flickers between the abject horror printed across the savior's face and the newly reunited family huddled against the booth mere steps away from her. The word '<em>monster<em>' lingers in the air like a poisonous echo that cannot be erased nor refuted.

"What have you done?" The question sounds from the back booth in the broken, voice-changing cadence of a teenager. She isn't sure when he came back in the room, or how much he saw, but the heartbroken look on Henry's face tells her that he's seen enough.

"I just tried to do the right thing. I couldn't leave her there to die…" the savior brokenly replies, shock and guilt still clearly written across her countenance.

"Where has she gone? Where is my mom?" The panic in his voice clearly showing in the way he squeaks on the end of the sentence and desperately looks around the room, finally resting his eyes on Robin Hood who still stands holding his child and recently resurrected wife. The betrayal and hurt shining through his eyes is clearly apparent, and for a split second she can see an echo of Regina in that stare. He may not be her blood, but he is certainly her child, especially with the way his eyes turn from broken and panicked to cold an accusatory in a split second.

"She trusted you!" He practically growls, and it's unclear whether he is directing it at his other mother or the archer a few feet away. "She's a hero now, she deserves better than this, from all of you!" He's shouting now and irrational with tears glittering in his eyes. That's what finally breaks it for her. Turning quickly from her place at the bar she grabs her coat and gloves off of the rack in the back and circles in front of the counter towards the door.

"We're closing early. Everyone finish your drinks and clear out, I expect this place to be empty when I get back. Red, I trust you can clean and lock up on your own?" She glances over to see her granddaughter nod at her before she pushes out the front door and heads down the sidewalk into the cold autumn night, away from the chaos and confusion inside.

…

She knows exactly where she will find the queen so she doesn't bother using her wolf senses to try and track her. The sidewalks are familiar and the night sky is oddly clear so she allows her mind to wander as she traces her way down alleys and across side streets to her destination. In her mind's eye she conjures the image of Regina as she crossed into the diner that evening and the way she practically sparkled with happiness. There was an ease and a comfort to her movements as she settled into a corner booth, greeting people from the town, smiling and chatting with an effortlessness Granny had never seen from her before. She remembers the way they had nodded to each other from across the room. No words had been necessary to convey the depth of their feelings; all they needed to communicate was present in the warmth of their eyes and the understanding of a simple gesture. It's odd to think how quickly that moment had been shattered.

She finds her exactly as she expected to, with one arm braced against the rough bark of her beloved apple tree, shoulders shaking with sobs. Her coat and scarf lay crumpled at her feet along with her five inch heels. She has never seen her look smaller or more fragile than she does in this moment of superficial solitude. Granny takes a few silent moments to observe the woman in front of her before she steps into the clearing, purposely snapping a twig on the ground to alert the queen to her presence.

Regina turns sharply at the sudden sound, eyes wide and surprised, with one arm protectively curved around the middle of her body. When she focuses and sees who has encroached upon her privacy her eyes soften and the tears start anew, steadily leaking down her face. The arm defensively wrapped around her middle drops to her side like a heavy weight and her shoulders sag in resignation, every ounce of light and happiness from earlier in the evening is completely absent, the glow from before replaced with an empty brokenness mimicked by the moonlit shadows in the garden.

Without a second thought she crosses the grass and folds the younger woman into her arms, holding her steady as her body is wracked with sobs. One of her hands comes up and gently coasts through her hair as she tucks the queen's head into the crook of her neck. She rests her cheek against the ebony softness there and she can't help but notice the faint scent of forest that clings to the queen's skin and the stickiness of chocolate ice cream that stains her right hand where it held Roland's earlier. Internally she despairs for the woman in her arms because she knows these subtle remnants of happiness and love will never mark the queen's immaculate skin again. Her heart breaks for this woman that has somehow found a place in her heart, and she allows her own tears to mingle with the queen's as they silently grieve together beneath the protective branches of their apple tree.


	5. Chapter 5

_I've combined a couple of prompts in this chapter with a few slight changes, I hope ya'll don't mind.  
>butterflykisses0 kindly sent "Regina has a nightmare and she seeks out Robin" and mysterious-song asked for something to make her smile so hard her face hurts, I'm not sure if this qualifies my dear, but it's decidedly fluffier than the last chapter… <em>

She is always cold. It's one of the first things he noticed about her, even before they fully started their relationship. She lives life in a series of layers; no matter how mild the weather may be outside she always seems to be encased in a protective coating of additional, unnecessary fabric; petticoats, heavy capes and lined velvet coats in the Enchanted Forest and delicate scarves, tailored jackets, and leather gloves that cling like a second skin in Storybrooke. The constant barrier of fabric was a source of perpetual frustration at the beginning of their courtship when he wanted nothing more than an opportunity to feel the softness of her skin beneath his fingertips at every possible moment.

Over time, however, he has come to appreciate the persistent chill his queen endures. While his hand still itches to touch bare skin when they stroll along together down the streets or to sneak his fingertips along a gap of fabric between the waist of her trousers and the soft silk of her blouse (desires all irritatingly blocked by textile obstacles), he knows that as soon as they are behind closed doors in the privacy of their home the layers will be cast aside, trading the additional warmth of cashmere, wool, and leather for snuggly blankets, fireplaces, and body heat. It's those private moments he has come to treasure the most in their relationship, when she sheds every protective layer and melts into his heat, cocooning herself further into his embrace as every inch of icy skin dissolves into the comfortable warmth and security of his arms. He has grown accustomed to falling asleep wrapped around her, limbs tangled beneath heavy down blankets and heads resting on the same pillow, breathing in the lavender scent of her hair and the heady cinnamon vanilla aroma of her skin before finally drifting off to sleep. So accustomed, in fact, that when he wakes in the middle of the night and reaches his arms out to pull her closer and he grasps nothing but the cooling Egyptian cotton of her sheets he immediately knows something is wrong.

Quickly sliding out of bed he tugs on a pair of cotton pajama pants and pads down the hallway in search of his love. Nightmares are a common occurrence for the both of them, but no matter how many times he's encouraged her to wake him when she is startled from slumber by her less than pleasant dreams she prefers to let him sleep and sort things out on her own. He can't count the number of times he's awoken alone in the dark only to find her downstairs absently stirring a pot of hot chocolate on the stove, staring into the emptiness of the kitchen back-splash as she tries to will her troubled mind back into the numbness of sleep.

That is where he expects to find her now, but just as he turns to head into the quiet blackness downstairs he notices a sliver of moonlight on the carpet from around the slightly ajar door of Henry's room. Creeping down the hallway, careful to avoid creaking floor boards, he silently pushes the door open enough to peek his head inside the room. It only takes him a moment to spot her across the room, curled up in the windowsill basked in the silvery glow of the moon. Her cheek is pressed to the top of her bent knees and she stares intently at the two boys haphazardly draped across each other snoring softly in the bed opposite her, with a look so full of love and wonder written in her eyes that it takes his breath away.

Finally, she looks up from her moonlit vigil and notices him in the doorway. Raising a finger to her lips signaling for him to remain silent where he is, she soundlessly leaves her spot in the window and pads across the room careful not to wake their slumbering children. Sliding her fingers into his she takes one last look at their boys before tugging him into the hallway with her and gingerly closing the door.

Without hesitation he folds her into his arms, protectively tucking his chin on the top of her head the moment the door is closed. He rubs his arms soothingly up and down her back and revels in the way the tension in her shoulders evaporates under his touch and the cold tingle of her fingertips slowly warms against the skin of his back as she sinks further into his embrace, practically molding her body into his. When he feels her release a sigh against his neck he pulls back slightly so he can tip her chin up and look into her eyes.

"Another nightmare?" he whispers into the silence of the hallway, gently running his thumb along the apple of her cheek.

"Um hmm," she nods, leaning into his hand, "but nothing worth waking you over."

"Milady, you should never be concerned with waking me. There is nothing I would love more than to hold you and remind you that you are safe, that's what I'm here for my love." Her eyes suddenly fill with moisture and she tries to turn her eyes away to hide it from him, but he lightly tucks his hand into the loose hair at the base of her neck, tangling his fingers into her ebony locks before tilting her head up to look at him.

"I love you Regina, in sickness and in health, through laughter and tears, late nights and early mornings, past mistakes, present worries, future dreams, nightmares, cold feet and all. I love everything about you, who you are and who we are together." Tears are lightly spilling out the corners of her eyes now and he catches each one with a tender swipe of his thumb before he leans down and presses a reassuring kiss to her lips.

When they break apart she leans her forehead against his and murmurs, "I love you too," against his lips before catching his lips in another quick kiss that breaks with a smile.

"Do you feel like you will be able to sleep again now?" He asks, as she nods, delicately covering a yawn with her hand. Chuckling at the adorable gesture he leans down and scoops her into his arms and carries her down the hallway toward their bedroom. She immediately curls into his chest, draping an arm around his shoulder and tucking her head into the crook of his neck, warm breath ghosting across his skin and he tightens his arms around her small frame to bring her closer. With a contented sigh he lays her in the bed before climbing in and tucking himself behind her enjoying the way she automatically snuggles into his chest and drifts off to sleep surrounded by his warmth.


	6. Chapter 6

_This is just a little AU that has been running around in my head. I may continue it if there's interest, or just go back to regular chapters. Thank you again for all of your lovely comments and follows, as always comments, criticism and prompts are welcome. Xx_

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><p>There are days when she walks around the city and she has to literally stop and pinch herself because she simply cannot believe she lives here. Walking along the South Bank on a beautiful spring day with the sun shining and a light breeze, or wandering through the streets soaking in the history that seems to permeate the air surrounded by the beautiful architecture and majestic splendor that is London is sometimes so surreal that she can't comprehend it.<p>

Today is not one of those days.

She's just coming off of a 48 hour on-call shift that had been physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausting and she only has four short hours before she has to be back at the hospital for her regular 12 hour shift. As grateful as she is to live in this remarkable city doing a job that most days she loves, she is keyed up and miserable, missing the comfortable familiarity of New York so much she can hardly breathe. It is that nostalgic longing, the suffocating homesickness and desire for the comfort of something from her homeland that has her taking a left in the Tube station and heading across town on the Piccadilly line instead of to the empty silence of her apartment.

Emerging from the station in Chiswick she verbally groans to see that the dull grey the sky had been when she entered the underground has turned into a full on downpour with heavy drops pinging off the metal hand rails of the steps as she ascends into the waiting deluge. By the time she reaches her destination a short six blocks away her feet are completely soaked through due to some miniscule hole in the sole of her boots that she was blissfully unaware of until she had to walk through the rain drenched streets. She can't count the pairs of shoes that have fallen victim to the perpetual damp of this God forsaken country in the short year that she's lived here. Luckily she remembered her umbrella when she left the hospital so the rest of her isn't quite as sodden.

Taking a quick left turn she darts under the awning of the shop, closes her umbrella quickly and steps into the comforting warmth of Outsider Tart. The aroma of fresh baked bread, gooey chocolate chip cookies, and warm spiced apple pie wraps itself around her like a comforting balm and she takes a moment to just breathe it in and allow some of the tension in her shoulders to uncoil. It's not the same as being back at home in New York, but the fresh pastries, breads and cakes in the American style bakery are the closest thing to home she can get in this country, not to mention the isles of shelves along the side that are stocked with various dried sundries, candies, sodas, and a variety of other imported goods from her home across the pond.

"Hiya Doc! Wasn't expecting to see you in here today, have a rough shift?" A gravelly voice greets her from behind the counter.

"Hello Leroy and rough doesn't begin to cover it," she calls back to the stout bearded man behind the display. Leroy, or 'Grumpy' as she occasionally likes to call him, is a former New Yorker turned expat like her. When she stumbled upon his bakery a few months after moving to London the pair quickly bonded over a mutual appreciation for all things New York, especially the various delicacies he keeps stocked in his display cases, and she's been a regular customer ever since. Today, however, she desires something of the packaged variety as opposed to the tempting freshly baked sweets and treats lurking behind the thin bubble of shiny display glass.

Turning on her heel she saunters across the tiles past rows of baking supplies and box mixes, fingers coasting along brightly packaged containers of Peter Pan peanut butter, marshmallow fluff, Pop Tarts, and Twinkies before she reaches her goal and comes to a stop, eyes seeking out the familiar day-glow orange wrapper with the swirly yellow writing and crinkled brown picture. Her eyes impatiently scan the rows of candy in front of her, crouching down to take a closer look at the numerous boxes and containers filled to the brim with Hershey Bars, Baby Ruth, Pay Day and Butterfingers, but she still can't find what she desires. She knows they sell them, it's one of the reasons she comes here so often; she has a particular weakness for this particular sweet—the combination of smooth, slightly salty peanut butter wrapped in a wafer thin layer of creamy milk chocolate is just what she needs to sooth her frazzled nerves and get her through her upcoming shift. Still not seeing her intended purchase she runs a frustrated hand along her scalp, smoothing down the errant strands that have curled around her forehead and ears in the damp air before she hears a familiar gruff voice call from behind her.

"Uh, Doc, I hate to tell you but we're all out of Reese's cups. Sir Locksley here just bought the last one." She doesn't need to turn around to see the regret on his face; she can practically hear the grimace in his voice. Effortlessly pulling herself upright from her crouched position she fluidly turns to face the counter with a sarcastic quip ready to bite back at the dwarf-like baker, but it dies on her lips the moment she locks eyes with the aforementioned 'Sir Locksley.'

She had been in such a huff when she walked in that she hadn't taken the time to notice the man standing at the counter chatting with Leroy, but she takes a good long look at him now. He's dressed in a pair of dark washed jeans that are lose, but still fitted enough to show what she assumes are very muscular legs, with a moss green button down shirt and a coffee colored suit jacket layered over it highlighting his broad, sculpted shoulders. He is certainly a fit, attractive man, but what truly takes her breath away for a moment is his eyes; they are a shocking blue that is both calming and unsettling at the same time and she feels a rush of something in her stomach that sends heat into her face and makes her mouth go dry. Those incredible eyes are fixated on her with a sheepish apologetic look that is punctuated by the slightly guilty, lopsided grin he is casting her way, his bottom lip drawn between his teeth highlighting one perfect dimple on the side of his face. For a moment she wonders what it would feel like to have those teeth drag across her bottom lip or to run her fingers along the light golden brown stubble that graces his cheeks, before she shakes her head and clears her throat, desperately trying to regain what little dignity she has left after the spectacular display of surliness and awkward staring she has demonstrated since walking through the door.

Nervously tucking another piece of hair behind her ear she draws in a breath to say something, she's not sure what, but before she can gather her thoughts the object of ogling steps forward and says in the most charming accent she's ever heard, "Milady, I apologize if my little indulgence has in any way inconvenienced you. I have a bit of a weakness for American candy, and it often gets me in trouble."

Only in England would one customer apologize to another for making a purchase they had every right to make, it's almost too much for her already threadbare nerves to handle. Before she can think twice she quips back, "And here I was thinking you Brits detested everything American? We use the wrong words, we put honey in our tea, and we fill our candy with sugar and preservatives. Isn't it some kind of treason against the crown to willingly admit to liking anything from 'the colonies?" she finishes with a quirk to her lips, one eyebrow raised as if in challenge.

If she thought his accent was charming, the chuckle he releases in response to her mildly flirtations jibe is downright intoxicating. The sound is rich and warm and makes her knees feel a bit like rubber in a completely foolish way.

"As I said before, I have a slight weakness for sweets of the American variety," he flirts back, drawing that lip between his teeth again as his eyes rake over her quickly and she's not entirely sure if he's still talking about the candy bar or if he's now thinking of her as one of the American sweets he may have a softness for.

"Not that I blame you, there are some things we Americans do better than anyone else." She bites back with a wink stepping up to the counter and asking Leroy for her usual Latte and a dark chocolate peanut butter chip cookie in lieu of the candy she had come here seeking. It's not quite the same, but it will have to do.

"Oh of that I have no doubt, miss…?" he starts and it takes her a moment to realize that he has dropped off waiting for her to supply her name.

"Doctor. Doctor Regina Mills, pleasure to meet you, stolen candy aside," she greets extending her hand for him to shake.

"Robin Locksley, and the pleasure is all mine _Dr._ Mills," he replies, stressing her title, taking her hand and unexpectedly brushing the back of her knuckles with his lips in a chivalrous kiss instead of the handshake she was expecting, those beautiful blue eyes never breaking contact with hers. He's close enough now that she can smell his cologne, it's fresh and clean like a mixture of pine needles and wood smoke with a musky undertone of leather and spice mixed with the damp from the rain outside that still clings lightly to his clothes, it's utterly overwhelming in the best kind of way and she finds herself leaning in to get a better whiff.

Leroy chooses that moment to walk back to the counter, quickly handing her the requested latte in a takeaway cup and wrapping the cookie in a delicate cellophane bag to protect it from the rain that is still chucking it down outside. The warmth of the coffee suddenly placed in her hand snaps her out of the strange fog she feels has taken over her brain under Robin's penetrating stare and she smiles at him one last time, mutters her goodbyes to Leroy and dashes back out into the downpour and back to work.

…

She wanders through her 12 hour shift on autopilot, checking on patients in the recovery room, conducting pre and post op checks and running through rounds in a distracted haze. For some reason she can't get her afternoon encounter with Robin out of her head. There was just something about him, the way he was completely unfazed by her direct ire and the way he disarmed her with his melodic accent and piercing eyes has driven her to distraction. It has been a mercilessly quiet shift, a welcome relief after the torturous 48 hour on call she had just endured, so she's surprised when she is paged to reception just 35 minutes shy of freedom.

A smile lights her face when she notices the slight woman with jet black pixie cut hair and sea foam green eyes decked out in a pair of pastel pink scrubs manning the desk. At the sound of her approaching footsteps her friend, Mary Margaret, looks up and waves with a smile that Regina notices has a slight hint of mischief around the edges.

"You paged?" she inquires leaning an elbow on the counter in front of her friend.

"Why yes, yes I did," and there's that mischievous smirk again, she is definitely hiding something.

"Okay M, what's up? You're looking entirely too pleased with yourself for my liking," she chuckles, casting a playful glare at the other woman.

"These came for you earlier," the younger woman replies, gesturing to her right, "I thought you'd rather get them at the end of your shift rather than trying to find somewhere to stash them in the break room for hours."

The playful smirk quirking up her lips turns to a shocked 'O' when she spots a bouquet of crimson and amber roses with burnt orange tips dusted with fall colored Gerbera daisies in various shades of scarlet, apricot and ochre resting on top of the reception desk to the right of Mary Margaret's gesturing hand. Disbursed among the blossoms a dozen wooden posts protrude with packages of Reese's cups affixed to their points, matching seamlessly with the autumnal pallet of the arrangement. For a moment she just stares at the bouquet in disbelief before shaking her head and laughing at the absurd (and enchanting) gesture as she leans forward and breathes in the delicate scent of one of the roses.

"There's a card," Mary Margaret chirps from behind the desk plucking the envelope from its place in the middle of the arrangement and handing it over before sitting back down in her chair and trying ineffectively to hide the grin that is practically splitting her face.

"Hmm, so there is," she says arching an eyebrow playfully at her friend.

"Well, are you going to read it?!" She implores, practically vibrating with excitement.

"If I must," she quips back, rolling her eyes at her gleeful look on Mary Margaret's face before flipping the envelope over and removing the tiny card held inside.

_Milady,_

_I apologize if my actions early today upset your routine in any way; I hope this token will help ease the inconvenience. If you will allow me, I would like to make it up to you in person by taking you to dinner tonight? I have reservations at Clos Maggiore at 7:30, I sincerely hope to see you there._

_-Robin_

She's not sure what she expected, but that certainly wasn't it.

"So, are you going to go?" Mary Margaret's question startles her from her reverie and she quickly stuffs the card back in its envelope before placing it securely in the pocket of her scrubs.

"You read it? Really Snow, do you have no respect for anyone's privacy?" She bites back, but finishes with a slight grin to make it clear that she's only partly serious.

Mary Margaret flinches when she hears the nickname Regina reserves for moments of complete exasperation, anger or patronization, but quickly recovers. "Receptionist's prerogative," she replies with a shrug. "And don't think you can change the subject that easily. Who is this guy? You're going to go right? It's been ages since you went on a date and I don't know what he did to "inconvenience" you this morning," she stresses with a suggestive wiggle of her eyebrows, "but that is a pretty fantastic apology if I ever saw one. You should at least show up. Come on, what have you got to lose?"

"Are you quite finished?" she asks, cocking her head to the side casting a withering stare at the younger woman in front of her.

"That depends, have I convinced you or are you still trying to think of a reason to get out of this?" she fires back, completely unaffected by the stare Regina is casting her way that would have most residents quacking in their shoes.

"You aren't going to let this go are you?"

"Not a chance," she retorts with an infuriatingly hopeful grin, eyes sparkling back at the scowl that suddenly appears on Regina's face.

"Alright fine, I'll go," she says with an overly dramatic sigh. "Now stop looking at me with those Disney eyes and get back to work."

"Yes mother," she bites back with a roll of her eyes, "but I expect to hear all about this mystery man when you come back to work in a couple of days.

"Don't hold your breath," she bites back with a wink as she scoops up the massive vase and heads to the locker room. If she leaves now she'll have time to go home and get a decent amount of sleep before she has to get up to get ready for her date with the mysterious Sir Robin Locksley.

…

A short nine hours later Regina finds herself rushing around her apartment desperately trying to decide what to wear to dinner. The beautiful bouquet Robin sent her earlier rests in a place of honor on her dresser (minus a couple Reese's cups) almost mocking her as she pulls dress after dress out of her closet holding each one up and assessing its potential in front of her full length mirror. Nothing seems quite right until she spots a glimmer of royal blue peeking out from the back of her closet. Shoving the other dresses aside she plucks the forgotten dress from the back of her closet and exhales her approval, this will do nicely. The dress is simple, yet elegant, hugging her curves in all the right places with an asymmetrical neckline that cuts just below her collarbones. The richness of the color perfectly offsets her creamy skin and ebony hair, but what really sets this dress apart is the back. While the front of the dress is fairly tame the back of the dress cuts in a low scoop that ends just above the small of her back where a dark metal zipper starts and runs all the way to the hem of the skirt. A delicate black ribbon ties the dress together at the top and she lets the ends hang down over the exposed skin of her back.

Checking herself in the mirror one last time, she combs through her hair that she has left down and slightly curled at the ends to frame her face making sure every strand is in place. Her makeup is light and fresh, with a gentle ring of coal outlining her eyes complimented by a dusting of light eye shadow and dark mascara. Her lips are accentuated by a coat of matte crimson, bold enough to be alluring without being too overt. Quickly tugging on a fitted leather jacket, she slips into a pair of patent leather pumps, scoops her keys and clutch purse off the table by the door and heads off to meet her date.

…

For a moment she just stands outside the door, staring at her reflection in the glossy reflective glass wondering if she has completely lost her mind. This is ridiculous, she doesn't know anything about this man beyond that they share a similar taste in horrible candy, he smells intoxicating, and he has the kind of eyes she would like to get lost in. This is a mistake. She turns around and takes a step toward the nearest Tube station when Mary Margaret's words from earlier come back to haunt her. Honestly, what does she have to lose?

Turning back around, she straightens her dress, fluffs her hair, takes a deep breath and opens the door.


	7. Chapter 7

The staccato clacking of her heels echoes down the hallway, announcing her presence long before she is seen. Regina has never been a morning person, preferring to break her fast in the privacy of her bedchambers away from prying eyes, whispered rumors and forced pleasantries, so Snow is surprised when she requests a brief audience before the sun has properly risen above the castle walls. She enters the room, polished to perfection in all her regal glory and Snow suddenly feels very frumpy in her white lace nightgown and cream silk robe, hair still tousled from sleep. She pulls herself a little straighter in her chair, attempting to match the posture of the woman in front of her as David rises to offer her a seat, which is politely declined with the flick of a wrist and a slight nod.

"You asked to see us Regina?" she finally ventures when the silence in the room begins to feel oppressive.

"Yes. I just wanted to inform you that I will be riding north for a few days on a scouting mission. I will return before nightfall on Friday, but if you need me before then my mirror can reach me or you can send one of those silly birds you seem to be so fond of," the cool indifference of her voice makes it clear this is an announcement, not a request, but something unclear flickers behind her eyes.

There is something slightly off about her that Snow can't quite put her finger on. She is flawlessly presented, as always, in a royal blue velvet coat that is fitted in the waist and the bust, practically suctioned on to the jeweled black corset that peeks out from the deep V of the jacket collar, before flowing to the ground in a long train that practically puddles around her feet. A pair of black leather riding pants and heeled boots completes the intimidating ensemble, every inch of restrictive fabric and supportive lacing oozing the confident ruthlessness of the Evil Queen she used to be. The straight-backed stance and no-nonsense manner she presents her plans in, however, is all Madame Mayor and Snow suddenly feels a twinge of Mary Margaret rising to the surface of her consciousness. The unsettled feeling she had a moment ago returns and she truly examines the woman who raised her, trying desperately to put her finger on what it is that is not quite right, and then she sees it.

It's her hair.

The thick mane of dark curls that is usually sculpted into an elaborate updo of some sort is pulled simply in two concentric twists that begin at her temples and join in the back to form a single, thick braid that hangs like an ebony rope down her back. Her usual smoky shadow, and bold lips have been traded for a light smattering of liner and a pale glossy pink that gives her face a natural glow and suddenly Snow is once again a child on a hillside breathing in the smell of grass and gratefully clinging to a beautiful woman in a powder blue riding coat who just saved her life. All three personalities of the woman she has admired and adored, feared and hated, befriended and forgiven are all standing in front of her so clearly demonstrated that it all suddenly clicks into place and she instantly knows exactly where Regina is going.

David starts to rise from his seat, a protest ready on his lips, but Snow stills him with a gentle hand to his wrist. He glances over, confusion furrowing his brow, they both know that things with Zelena are still too unsettled for Regina to go gallivanting across the countryside for a few days, but this trip is necessary. He must see the conviction in her eyes because he settles back into his seat, the tension slowly seeping out of his face as he relaxes back into his chair.

"Of course, Regina. Please let us know if there is anything we can do to assist with your journey," she offers, with what she hopes is a reassuring smile.

"Thank you, but everything I need has been arranged. Try not to let the kingdom fall apart in my absence," she quips back with a raise of her eyebrow and a smirk that doesn't quite reach her eyes before turning on her heel and quickly stalking out of the room.

"Now are you going to tell me what that was about, or do I have to guess?" her husband inquires as soon as the sound of the queens clacking footsteps has faded down the hallway.

"This is something she needs to do on her own, don't worry," she reassures while reaching her hand over and gently squeezing his fingers, trying to convince herself as well.

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><p><em>This is just a little drabble from the missing year because <em>dakota1979 _requested more of those . I am planning to possibly make the previous chapter into a separate multi-chapter fic that I will post under a different title hopefully in the next few weeks when I have another chapter. It may be a while before the next update-I've broken a finger and ripped a ligament in my right hand so writing is a bit painful at the moment!_

_As always questions, comments, criticism, and prompts are welcomed. Thank you all so much for the lovely comments and messages you've sent, they really do bring a smile to my face and motivate me to write more! Xx_


	8. Author's Note

Hello all,

I'm very sorry to say, but it's going to be a bit longer before I'm able to update London Fog or Comfort due to family issues. My father was hit by a train at work yesterday in the US (he's mostly ok, thank goodness) but I may have to go home for a bit while he recovers and there is no internet where my parents live. I will try my best to get something out soon.

Thank you all for reading and sending your comments and encouragement, it really means a lot to me. Again, I'm very sorry about the delay.


	9. drabble

The first few times he says it to her the words are laced with anguish and shame, forced from his lips like some kind of sin he is begging her to absolve him of with pleading eyes and furrowed brow. Words that precious should never carry so much weight, so much pain, so much inescapable guilt and yet the impossibility of their situation crowds around them and suffocates whatever joy and light those words would usually bring leaving only the stabbing, hollow, sting behind. It is this sting that leaves her gasping for breath and looking away every time he utters the words her heart so desperately longs to hear, but her mind shrieks that she has no right to. It is the weight of her own regret that has those same words lodging in her throat and choking her into silence while her very soul screams them back to him.

The first time she says the words to him she is almost certain she will burst if she has to hold them inside of her any longer. She is covered in grime from her battle with the Snow Queen, blood and mud caked on her trousers and streaked across her face, but she couldn't care less. All she sees is the beautiful thief in front of her, finally free of his bond to his wife and smiling at her like she is the sun itself and the words burst forth from her before she can stop them.

"I love you. I. Love. You."

Before she can say it again he closes the distance between them with two quick steps and pulls her into his arms, molding his mouth over hers. His left hand tangles in her hair, angling her head to deepen the kiss while his other arm wraps around her waist, lifting her slightly off the ground so that her body is flush with his. It is like this, with his arms still firmly wrapped around her and her feet slightly off the ground, their limbs tangled and chests pressed together that he breaks the kiss and grins back at her, his blue eyes swimming with affection and relief.

"I love you too, milady. I love you too."


End file.
